Need You Now
by ginmariano
Summary: Puck made it to New York, but he's hit rock bottom after another try with Quinn. He won't eat, sleep, or take care of himself and has resorted to bad habits. Who comes to the rescue, other than Rachel Berry, Jewish extraordinaire? T for some language.
1. Chapter 1

"What the _hell_, Quinn?" he nearly growled, his grip tightening on the bottle.

"You heard me loud and clear, _Puck_! I'm leaving you!" The blonde was flitting around the apartment, shoving random things into a bag.

"I did hear you, the first _fifty_ fucking times! _What the hell?_"

"How _stupid_ are you?"

"Stupid enough to give you another _fucking _chance! I left my entire life behind for you! I gave up a _daughter _for you!"

"I gave _you_ the chance, Puckerman. Get it right. And I guess that makes me the stupid one, especially trusting you with _my_ kid. I should've known."

"Should've known _what_?" She ignored him, trying to unlock the door. He stood up and grabbed her arm roughly to turn her face to him. "What shit are you _fucking _sprouting, Quinn?"

Her face twisted into an awful, but familiar sneer that reminded him of Cheerio days. Some things never change.

"Face it, Puck, you're just a Lima loser!" she screamed at him. "You always have been, and _nothing_ about that will change!"

She yanked her arm free, slamming the door behind her and he was silent for a moment. Suddenly, he let out a primal yell, hurling his Jack Daniels at the door, shattering it and spilling the alcohol on his floor. He slid against the door, his face in his hands, trying to figure out when it had gone wrong. What _he_ had done wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

"_Hello_?" a small voice called. Puck rolled over on his couch, groaning.

"What the-God, no, _go away!_"

"I'm coming in," the voice called and there was a click from the doorknob, as it turned to let in a petite, short-skirt wearing girl. He leaned up, scanning his surroundings with blurry vision.

"Fuck, I _know_ those legs." His gaze moved up and his eyes widened to a nearly bulging point. "Berry! What are you doing in my apartment?"

"Obviously, to do what you're not," she replied, gingerly stepping around garbage. She unbuttoned her coat and hung it on the rack near his door and put her bag on the table. "This is very disgusting, Noah." She walked around, searching for something.

"I'm a guy, Berry, what do you expect?" he retorted. He shook his head, standing up and picking up a shirt from the floor. He sniffed it, then pulled it over his head. Rachel came back, carrying a laundry basket on her hip.

"Noah, take that off right now! That's _not_ clean!"

"Smells clean," he muttered.

"Smell is not equivalent to cleanliness. Hand it over," she scolded, holding out her hand. He smirked, yanking the t-shirt off obediently.

"If you want to see me shirtless so bad, all you had to do was ask," he said, winking.

She _had _examined his physique, sadly noting the lost weight and muscle mass with sad eyes. He looked rather odd without his signature, traditional Mohawk, but rather nice all the same aside from the obvious decline in health. She quickly composed herself and rolled her eyes, unconvinced, and placed it in the basket.

"Speaking of smell..." she told him, her nose wrinkling. "When is the last time you _bathed_, Noah?" He was in the kitchen, trying to make coffee. He looked up, scratching his head.

"Uh...couple days...couple weeks...dunno...Can't really remember." She appeared in the kitchen with an already full basket. She pointed towards the hallway, unblinkingly.

"Go. Bathe. _Now_."

"Alright, alright, _Mom!_" he exclaimed, holding his hands up. He nearly tripped in his gait, catching himself on the wall. He blinked, trying to make the spots disappear. "I'm going. I'm going."

She set the basket on the counter, rummaging in the cabinets with determination. She pulled out a roll of black, plastic bags successfully and removed one for use, then a pair of rubber gloves. She strode back to the living room, pulling bottles, food boxes, and other trash remnants into the bag.

After that one was full, she set it by the trashcan.

"Now to tackle the dishes," she declared. She took one look at the overflowing sink, shuddered, and took a step back. Thinking for a moment, she suddenly remembered the mask in her bag and went to retrieve it.

When Puck was finishing his shower, he could distinctly hear humming. He strained his ears to hear as he toweled off.

"The_ fuck_..." He listened again after pulling on a pair of jeans, as he entered the kitchen. "Berry, are you singing some Mary Poppins Broadway shit?"

She beamed at him, but it couldn't be seen through the face mask, still scrubbing a dish.

"I'm proud of you, Noah. Yes, it was indeed 'A Spoonful of Sugar' from Mary Poppins, but I much prefer the original version of 1964. I can't imagine any other person aside from Julie Andrews in that part aside from myself of course, although the Broadway version was quite adequate, it simply could not meet up to the standards set by the original." She frowned, which wasn't seen yet again. "Also, fecal matter is an inappropriate comparison to fit to Broadway, Noah, you know better," she scolded, slightly muffled. He leaned against the counter, examining Rachel's quick handiwork so far.

"_Damn_ , Berry. You're like a hot Jew version of Martha Stewart or something." She set the last dish away, pulling her mask and throwing it away.

"Thank you, Noah," she replied, beaming again and twisting the sink faucet. "Just let me wash up and I can start cooking you something that qualifies as _actual_ nutrition. Beer, whiskey, wine, an occasional pizza slice and more beer is not listed on or as the five basic food groups: grains, vegetables, fruits, dairy, and meats. However, oil is often counted as a sixth food group, so I will include that as well. Or as I do as a vegan, I have my substitutes for all meat and-"

He cut her off, forcing a chuckle. "Thanks, but no thanks, Berry. I'm not hungry, I don't do 'vegan'. So why are you here again?" he replied, making air quotes with his fingers.

She shut off the water and dried her hands on a nearby towel on a ring, which was actually clean. "Noah, I am not _forcing_ you to become a vegan. However, if you do choose to, I will fully support your decision and help you accustom to your new lifestyle every step of the way. _But_..." She paused to pull out a pan and a plastic package from the fridge. "Since your mother informed me of your _current _dilapidated lifestyle, I will concede to make bacon." His expression darkened, but her back was facing him. She turned on the stove, and soon they could both hear the sizzle, and smell the enticing scent.

"I'm not hungry, Berry," he said. Then his stomach growled, _loudly_.

"Noah, you _looooove_ bacon," she drawled. "I believe it's a very debilitated habit to have such affection for an unhealthy rendition of pork and other pig organs, but you _looooove _bacon. You know you want some!" With the tongs, she picked up a strip and held it out to him, wriggling the perfectly cooked piece. "Noah..."

"I said, I'm _not_ hungry!" He knocked it out of her hand and it landed in the frying pan. Hot oil splatters landed on his skin and he hissed in pain. She seized the towel from the ring, running it under cold water to press against his skin.

"Oh my-Noah, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Here, let me-"

He pushed her away and the towel fell to the floor. She crouched to pick it up, but he kicked it away with his bare foot. "Just, just don't, Berry. Please leave."

"Noah-" His fingers pressed against his face, his eyes shutting.

"_Please_ ."

"But what about-"

"_Please_." Rachel walked away, leaving the mess behind her. She picked up her bag and coat, exiting the apartment with one glance. When had Noah Puckerman ever sounded so...so _defeated_?


	3. Chapter 3

Puck forced himself out of bed the following morning, surprised he had woken up in his bed at all. A loud knock interrupted his morning stupor, just as he was reaching for the comfort of one Jack Daniels within his refrigerator.

"_Fuck off!_" he roared at the knocker. They knocked again, repeatedly. Finally, he slammed it down next to his bottle opener and stomped to the door, nearly tearing it open. "What the hell do you want?"

The man standing at the door swallowed audibly, and leaned away from his wrath.

"Delivery for Puckerman comma Noah."

"What is it?" he asked, hand gripping the door frame tightly.

"Gift basket," the courier man told him, holding it up and staring intensely at his clipboard. "Sign here, please."

Puck eyed the covered package suspiciously, before yanking the pen from the man to write his name vigorously on the dotted line. The man handed him the basket, running out of sight before Puck could react. He shut the door behind him and carried the basket to his kitchen and set it on the counter. He cracked open the bottle and was about to take a sip, and halted, gazing at the package he had been given. His curiosity was getting the better of him.

"Not like it's a bomb or something," he murmured, gulping down a long sip. He tore open the basket wrapping with some effort, tossing that aside. His first thoughts were, _obnoxious_ and _girly_.

"Berry," he thought automatically. In the center, surrounded by shaving cream, a pack of razors, and various filled Tupperware, sat a neat little card written in delicate, tiny cursive.

He squinted to read it, then began to read it aloud, slightly stumbling on words he couldn't make out.

"'Dear Noah, I hope you accept my gift basket of apology. I apologize for yesterday's mishap with the bacon and burning you with cooking oil. I sincerely hope you are well and-'" He cut off, skimming through the words. There was a _lot _for a paper that size. Then again, this was Rachel Berry. It wouldn't be her if was anything less than perhaps a thousand words.

"Hmm, uh huh, yeah, okay," he grunted as he read, taking sips at intervals. "Why the hell is there shaving crap in here?" He skimmed back, searching for any words that related to it. "'Noah, I noticed yesterday that you had accumulated quite the noticeable amount of facial hair upon your person, and whilst searching for a laundry basket yesterday, that you did not have the proper equipment for shaving. I have enclosed the necessary items for such and duly hope that you put them to good use.' Who the hell says _whilst_ anymore?" He pulled it from the basket and gripped it in his hand to make his way to the bathroom while reading. He set the three items on the sink and prepared to take a shower.

When he was done, he wiped the steam off of the mirror and stared at himself in the mirror, something he hadn't done in a long time. Not since _she _had been here. His skin was sallow and dark, purple shadows were visible beneath his hazel eyes. He flexed an arm, smirking then it fell from his face. He dropped the pose, hand stroking his face. The hair was rough beneath his cheek and it left a red mark from how hard he had gripped.

"God, what did I let that _bitch _do to me?" he whispered at his reflection. He leaned closer, breathing out on the glass, letting his face steam from view.

Rachel Berry stopped in front of the apartment door, her dress swishing in place. She pulled her bag higher on her shoulder before rapping on the door politely.

"Noah?" she called. "Are you there?" She pressed an ear against the door, hearing him talking to somebody.

A moment later, a clean-shaven Puck opened the door, munching on a cookie. He moved aside to let her in, his eyes friendly. "Hey, Berry. These are _fucking _delicious, by the way. I think I'm almost out of these." She gave him a bright smile, following him to the kitchen.

"I'm glad you like them, Noah. They are my very popular I-am-sorry sugar cookies, homemade and delicious. Forgive me if they're not perfect, I was in a hurry when I baked them." He gaped at her, mouth half-open. She raised her brow, telling him to close his mouth. "It's not polite to chew with your mouth full."

"The fuck, Berry! Did you not hear me? These are _fucking _delicious!"

"I suppose, Noah. I will accept your obvious enjoyment of them," she said, laughing. "I promise to make another batch _just_ for you."

"Thank you _God," _he praised at the ceiling. She laughed again, placing her hands together on the counter.

"Noah, I brought burn ointment. Pull up your shirt," she commanded. He did, pulling it to his shoulder. "Sit down, please. You're _too_ tall." He chuckled, sitting on a bar stool and seizing a cookie Tupperware to eat from. She squeezed some out onto her palm and began to rub it into his fairly toned side.

"That feels good, Berry," he said in a gawdy tone.

"Really, Noah, really? You hit on me now of all the times?"

"I am _the _Puckerone. I wasted nearly a year on a bottle blond and I need to make up for it. Starting with my hot little Jewish-American princess," he replied. She couldn't help but smile, despite what he had said. He _had _complimented her, after all.

"Of course, Noah," she responded, rubbing in neat, methodical circles. "I have a question, Noah."

"As long as you keep doing what you're doing, shoot."

"Why the sudden change of heart?" He forced himself not to stiffen and answer her question honestly.

"Before you got here, I was talking to my Ma. I miss her so much," he said, his mouth quirking in a small smile. "I even miss Sarah, that little twerp," he chuckled. "You and Ma are right. Qu-" he took a breath. "_Quinn _is a goddamn, fucking bitch that I wasted my life and effort on. She was just another mistake. I'm doing what you're supposed to do with those things. Move the hell on and learn from it." She pulled down his shirt and set the ointment on the counter.

"I'm done. You'll feel better soon, and there will be no scarring present. Also, Noah, I am quite sure neither _I_ nor your _mother_ said those exact words in any context."

"I'm paraphrasing, yeah, that's what you call it," he replied, waving his cookie in the air. "I would positively faint if _the _Rachel Berry, perfect Jewish angel cursed!" he exclaimed, placing a hand on his forehead for emphasis.

"I'm proud of you, Noah," she replied, wrapping her arms around him from behind. She let him go and said, "Now let's get you something to eat besides my cookies."


	4. Chapter 4

Mere weeks after Rachel's Puckervention came through, the formerly Mo-hawked Jew found himself sitting in the hall of Notes Inc. He thought it was a seriously stupid name for a record label, but he was determined to get signed. Besides, this totally beat Sounds R Us. But they were on his list too just in case.

"Noah Puckerman? Noah Puckerman?" He nearly jumped a foot into the air at his name. He had been on the edge of sleeping. Being positive to the point where sunshine was probably shining out his ass was exhausting. The woman called his name again and he answered this time.

"Yes! I'm right here!" He walked to the door, ignoring the glares sent his way. That just meant they were jealous, Rachel had told him that. They knew he was a threat. Don't fuck with the Puckster.

He entered the room and stopped at the marked 'X' on the floor. A table was set up in front of him, with two people sitting at it. "Name?" the man on the left asked, not looking up from his clipboard.

"Uh, Noah Puckerman."

"And what will you be singing today?" he asked, not looking up. He tried not to swallow too audibly, suddenly feeling nervous. The woman looked at him, smiling encouragingly and shooting him a thumbs-up. He relaxed, telling himself to snap out of it. The chick reminded him of Berry, but like, all dark-skinned and not a midget. Now that he thought of it, she kind of looked like Satan, _er_ Santana. He shook away the thought, giving an answer to the still waiting man. "Well?"

"Sweet Caroline by Neil Diamond."

"_Neil Diamond?_" he repeated.

"I make it a point to only sing songs by fellow Jewish artists. Gotta represent," he couldn't help but shrug arrogantly. The woman sitting next to him grinned, clapping her hands.

"I can't help but like this chap," she stated in a British accent. "He's a right snippy _arse_, but the good kind. Let him sing, Andy!"

"Em! Be quiet!" the man asked, pushing her away slightly. "Ready to sing, Noah?"

"Sure. You ready for me?" They waited expectantly and he began to strum, praying inwardly that he didn't sound scratchy. It'd been awhile, even though Berry had practically drilled him. She was like a fucking midget, singing Marine.

The song became easier and easier until he surpassed the first verse. He launched into a long 'Oh' before belting out the chorus.

Andy cut him off in the middle of it, holding up a hand.

"I think I've heard enough."

"Okay then," Puck replied, trying not to stutter. "I'll just leave then." He felt his heart and confidence start to sink.

"Wait a minute, Puckerman," Andy pushed his chair back, tearing off a paper. "Here. I'll see you tomorrow. I'm going to test you in the studio, then we can talk a record deal. Cool with you?"

"That's plenty cool with me," Puck replied, walking out with the best paper he had ever received in his entire life. He cleared his throat, imagining himself pumping his fist and the air and yelling. That could wait until he was outside. There were plenty of weirdos in New York.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Puckerman," Em told him cheerfully, waving goodbye. He strode past the others waiting proudly, still holding it in. When he was in the street, he set down his guitar case carefully. He pumped his fist in the air, yelling, "_YES! I DID IT! YES!_" He was right; no one gave him a second glance. He cleared his throat anyway, slightly embarrassed. He slung his guitar case over his shoulder and pulled his ringing cell phone out. Unsurprisingly, Berry had set herself as a speed dial, but he had changed her name. He grinned at the screen, where it read 'Princess' calling. Originally, he had put 'My Hot Little Jewish-American Princess', but it hadn't completely fit in the slot, and he had to settle for Princess.

"Go for Puck."

"Hello, Noah. The director gave us a small break, so I decided to call and inquire as to how your audition was going."

"My audition ended about a minute ago, Berry. Was just about to call you too." He heard her laugh, causing him to chuckle back. "Something funny, Berry?"

"Of course not, Noah. How did it go?"

"Well..."

"_Well, what?" _He tried to sound sad, and not burst into laughter.

"Well..."

"Noah _Benjamin_ Puckerman! I demand to know how your audition went right now and that you stop this 'well' nonsense!"

"Rachel _Barbra_ Berry! Did you just almost _curse_?" he asked, appalled.

"Of course not! Don't be ridiculous, Noah! Are you going to tell me or not? I have a limited amount of break time. I can spend it doing other things."

"Wait, wait, wait! No, please don't! Berry!" he pleaded, dropping the act. "I'm just messing with you, Berry!"

She paused before answering, making him think she had hung up. "Really?" she asked quietly. "So how did it go?"

"It went great, just like you said it would. They want me to come back tomorrow and sing for them in the studio."

"I told you!" she nearly screamed into the phone. He held it away from him, grinning with amusement.

"Calm down, Berry. I can practically _feel_ your 1000 watt grin burning all up in my grill. But thanks for helping me with that stuff. Hold on, let me catch a cab." He whistled loudly, and one screeched to a stop not a second after. He opened the door, loading his guitar in. "Hey, can you stop by my place? I got a favor to ask..."


	5. Chapter 5

"Hey Andy, hope you don't mind, but I brought a friend," Puck said.

"Got a groupie already?" the man joked. A woman stepped out from behind him, her arms crossed tightly across her chest.

"I most certainly am _not _a groupie! I am a highly respected performing artist, onstage and offstage! Now I suggest you-"

"Andy, you git! That's Rachel Berry!" Em interrupted, smacking her colleague. "Apologize, you bloody arse!"

"Oh my God, I am _so_ sorry! I didn't see you! You are definitely _not _a groupie, I promise," he stuttered. "You're too pretty for that," he said quietly. Puck stifled his laugh behind his hand as Rachel beamed at Andy, accepting the apology.

"Thank you, Andrew. As Noah was saying, he invited me to his recording and I intend on staying as long that's alright with you, I mean."

"Of course!" he replied excitedly. "Puckerman, how in the hell do you know _Rachel Berry_?"

"Hey, don't curse in front of my lady friend." Andy's eyes widened at his serious look.

"Er, how do you know Rachel Berry?" he asked again.

"Berry and I were in glee club together. It fucking rocked," he admitted, slipping in the no cursing thing. Luckily, Rachel didn't admonish him for it and continued with why she was actually there.

"Andrew, the real reason I came with Noah today was to sing with him, again, if you don't mind."

"Not at all, Miss Berry," Em cut in before Andy could make a further fool of himself. "Right this way, you two."

Puck shouldered his guitar with a smirk and led Rachel with a hand on the small of her back. She let them into the studio, setting them up with headphones and microphones. She left them in the studio, standing with Andy on the other side of the glass. She pressed a button, greeting them.

"How are you two doing?"

"Ready to go," Puck spoke for them, giving them a thumbs-up.

"What are you guys singing for us?" They looked at each other, smiling.

"You'll know when you hear it, Em," he said. "You'll know when you hear."

Em shut off her microphone and began to count down for them, mouthing it. The red light turned on and he began to strum his guitar.

Rachel took a quiet breath and began to sing, pouring emotions into the familiar song as she always did. She got super intense in a matter of seconds, making it believable that he _had_ left her with only a room of scattered memories.

Puck joined in, singing with her.

He cut off at the perfect cue, letting her sing the next part. He smiled to himself, enjoying her voice.

She sang, meeting his eyes. Hers had a matching smile in them.

Rachel closed her mouth, smiling and tapping her foot. The two young producers and Puck knew exactly why Rachel hadn't taken too long to make it big in NYC. She had the voice of a siren that drew you in, whether you were willing or not.

Em was grinning madly at the two, glad she was here to witness this. Meanwhile, Andy was sitting next to her, trying not to tear up, telling his colleague that is sounded beautiful, _repeatedly_. He nudged Em, saying, "Oh my God! Oh my God! Here comes the next part!"

Andy tried to regain some control, but had nudged Em again. "Don't they sound great together? This is awesome!"

Puck and Rachel began to harmonize with each other, very well, in fact. Rachel had shut her eyes, as she tended to do during solos of great magnitude, as did Puck. But even with their eyes closed, you could feel the brunt of the emotion, the passion. Or maybe Andy was just a really big, very dramatic fan.

They reopened their eyes, staring at each other with solemn expressions. The realization that this wasn't _just _a song was starting to creep up on them.

The way Rachel carried it made it seem like a casual conversation between the two. Like creating earthshaking music was just a regular day for the two.

Puck responded with a sincere need for her.

"Forget earthshaking, you git!" Em exclaimed at Andy. "More like effing universally shattering!"

Puck finished off with a few last strums. The red light went off and Em turned the microphone back on. Rachel began to giggle, hiding behind Puck, at hearing Andy's obsessive babble. But they stopped laughing when they caught a small piece of what he said.

"Puckerman, you were great!_ Fucking_ great! I expect to see your ass in here everyday at nine sharp, letting loose great tunes like _that_!" Puck stood there, stunned, as Rachel was snapping her fingers in his face.

"Just think of the publicity when we _release_ this! Notes Inc's newest artist is bloody _chums_ with _the_ Rachel Berry!" Em replied happily. Rachel pulled off their headphones, shutting the two out.

"Noah? Noah? Noah! Is anybody there?"

"_Holy fuck, _Berry! We got mad song chemistry skills, baby!" He held up a hand and she slapped it hard, before hugging him tightly.

* * *

><p>Author's note: Since original song lyrics were deleted in order to prevent removal of this story, I thought it'd be helpful to mention that it's just a revival of their Glee performance.<p> 


	6. Chapter 6

Puck and Rachel were waiting on the sidewalk, arm-in-arm. Not that he would admit it, but it made him feel like a merry fucking gentleman.

"That was great, Noah!" she exclaimed.

"I heard you the first time, Berry. And the time before that. And the time _before _that," he chuckled.

"It was so great that I had to say it more than once! You haven't even really started your career yet and here you are, already set for millions of people to download you singing!"

"_Us_," he corrected. "I couldn't have done it without you, Rachel._ You_ jump-started my career. Thank you."

"Nonsense, Noah," she replied, waving her hand about. "You are a lovely singer. If I wasn't sure that Andrew was in love with me, I would say he is with you."

He made a face, making her laugh again. "Sucks for him, I don't do dudes, Berry."

"Good to know, Noah," she replied.

"Hey, Berry?" His free hand had slid up to scratch the back of his head, a nervous habit.

"Yes, Noah?" she asked, looking at him with doe brown eyes. He swallowed, trying to remember what he was saying.

"Uh, let's go out to celebrate tonight. Get drunk responsibly, y'know?"

"Noah, there is no such thing," she laughed.

"Right. So do you want to?"

"I'd love to-" A ringing sound interrupted her and she pulled out a slim Blackberry from her coat.

"Huh, what do you know. Berry has a Blackberry," he joked. She rolled her eyes, putting the phone to her ear.

"Very funny, Noah. Hello? Oh, hello, Michelle." Puck looked away, whistling nonchalantly, wondering whether or not he should eavesdrop. He told himself not to, that was Berry's business.

He scoffed mentally. Rachel had him wrapped around her tiny little damn finger. The guys would kick his damn ass if they knew he was going soft.

"Really? Are you sure?" she asked, sounding unhappy. He leaned over trying to listen, but she was just making hmm sounds, not really responding. Before he could hear anything good, she hung up, turning to him with a frown.

"Noah, I'm so sorry."

"Sorry about what, Berry?" he asked. "Everything okay? Did Michelle do something?"

"Michelle is fine," she said, shaking her head. "But I'm afraid I can't share your celebratory endeavors tonight. Michelle is one of my fellow cast members in the play I've been working on."

"What's going on?"

"My director scheduled a promotional party for this night and I am required to attend, being the lead. They won't let me cancel, no matter how _much_ I want to." He laughed to himself quietly, not answering. "I'm so sorry, Noah. Noah?"

"It's okay, Berry. Not your fault. I don't blame you, I swear." He let go of her arm, whistling for a taxi. When one drove to them, he opened the door for Rachel. "You better get ready for your party though. Wow those other bitches like you always do. See ya." He shut the door on her, tossing bills at the driver through the other window. "Take her wherever she needs to go, man. Later, Berry."

The taxi squealed away on its path, leaving Puck at the sidewalk. He shoved his hands in his pockets, walking towards his apartment. Well, technically, his building was a _lot_ farther than this, but he needed the time. Walking always helped him clear his head. So did hitting something, but he doubted that a police officer would be forgiving if he punched one or two pedestrians.

He kicked a lonely can along his way, calling it pathetic. He was getting louder and louder. Finally, he shouted, "_PATHETIC!_ YOU'RE FUCKING _PATHETIC!_" The can soared, landing on the back of a particularly _large_ person's head. He cursed, running for it when the man yelled in pain.

* * *

><p>Rachel knocked at the door, pressing her ear against the door when she got no response. She walked back to the plant in the hall, fishing for something in the fake leaves. She walked back and pushed his door open quietly.<p>

"Rachy!" a voice exclaimed.

"Oh, Noah," she said sadly to herself. She smiled at him brightly, greeting him. "Hello, Noah." He stumbled to his feet, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He definitely had gained back the muscle mass.

"Rachy!"

"Hello, Noah," she repeated, laughing, patting him on the back. He let go of her and grinned at her lazily, his hazel eyes dilated. "So, having your own celebratory endeavor?"

"I don't know what all those big words mean, but I'm having a great _fucking_ time! See!" He chugged his beer, nearly choking for a second. "You looooooooook pretty! Did you dress up for_ me_?" he asked, grinning again.

"I was at my cast party," she explained. "I kind of sneaked out to see you."

"My Rachy's a rebel!" he asked, drinking again. "Drink with me! We need to cele-_celebrate_!"

"Thank you, Noah." She smoothed the front of her dress, walking to the kitchen. "But no thank you. I think you've drank enough for the both of us." He didn't answer. "Noah?" She strode back, seeing him fast asleep on the couch, clutching the beer to him. Her lips quirked, looking down at him. "Hmm. Boys _are_ cute when they are asleep. But I can't imagine that that sofa is comfortable at all." She gently pulled the beer from his grip and went to pour the remainder down the sink. Back at his side, she pulled his arm around her and tried to pull him up. Nothing. She tried again. She's pretty sure she might have pulled something.

Rachel gave up with a huff. She sat on the small space of the couch not taken up by Puck's body, resting her chin in her hands, staring at the bottles that littered the table and the floor. Then she straightened, thinking of something to do. "He's sure to have one mess of a hangover."

She left the living room in search of a blanket, aspirin, and some water. She found them quickly, coming back to find Puck trying to sit up. "Noah, lay back down." He obeyed, gazing at her with depressed looking hazel eyes. "Noah, what's wrong?"

"I thought you left." He hiccuped. "I thought you weren't coming back. That you were going to leave me behind. Like _Q-Quinn _did. Please don't. I know I'm kind of a ass, but I need you. I don't have anybody else. Please don't leave me, Rachy."

She shushed him, draping the blanket over him. Inside, her heart felt like breaking. She kissed his forehead, her hand holding his face. He was out like a light, snoring softly.

"I won't leave, Noah, I promise. I'm here whenever you need me," she whispered, then kissed his forehead again. She studied the room. "I should clean this up before he wakes up and trips over something."

She quickly filled a bag with the bottles, and checked for any in the fridge. Luckily, there wasn't anyway.

After this, she yawned, checking her Blackberry. It was a little past one in the morning.

"I had better stay here, take care of Noah in the morning," she told herself. "And Kurt will be furious if I mess up his eight hours of beauty sleep. I'm sure Noah won't mind."

She went into his room, rummaging through drawers. After a few moments, she removed a shirt and held it against herself. It stopped rather close to her knees. She unzipped her dress and unhooked her heels, setting them aside carefully. When she put on his shirt, she examined herself in his bathroom mirror. "_Huh._ Noah still has his McKinley shirt. I guess we all miss Lima even a _little_ bit." She whispered a muted goodnight to the air, before burying herself beneath his covers.


	7. Chapter 7

Puck got up, knocking the blanket to the ground. He looked around fuzzily, trying to get his grip together. He pulled his arm up and sniffed, his nose turning up. "_Damn_. Let's go get that shower, Puckerman." He undressed in the bathroom, quickly taking a shower. He wrapped a towel around himself, walking to his room.

"Whoa. Now that's not something you see every day." Rachel was curled up on his bed, hugging a pillow tightly to herself. She had kicked the blanket away some time during her slumber, her legs showing. "_Nice_."

Her eyes shot open, and stared at him with an open mouth. "Noah!"

"Berry, I'm a little lost, so correct me if I get anything wrong. You woke up in my _bed_, you're not wearing anything but my _shirt, _and I _uh, well_, you're in my bed. Wearing my shirt. Thinking what I'm thinking?" Her eyes widened even more and she untangled herself from the sheets and got to her feet.

"_Noah!"_

"What?" he defended. "We're a couple of damn hot Jews, so why not?" he said honestly.

"I'll just go shower," she said, snatching her things and darting out of the room. He shrugged, dropping the towel to get dressed.

In the kitchen, he found Rachel with wet hair and cooking something.

"That smells great, Berry," he complimented, buttoning his jeans.

"Thank you, Noah. I'm making waffles. I remembered how much you like them. How are you feeling?" she asked brightly.

"Like someone kicked my head in. I can't remember anything," he groaned.

"_Oh."_

"Did I do something embarrassing last night, Berry? If I did, please do _not _tell me."

"No, nothing like that, Noah." She waited a moment, the only sound their breathing. "May I ask you a question?"

"You can keep the shirt if you want, Berry. Looks good on you," he winked. She smiled, seeing that he was back to himself just a little bit.

"Thank you, but I would have to decline. It's about Quinn." His grip tightened on the mug she had set out with coffee. "Answering is entirely up to you, I apologize for even bringing it up-"

"Save it, Berry. It doesn't offend me any. Quinn left me. End of story."

"But, why?"

"She said I didn't love her, that's it."

"But-"

"Look, I already _told _you!_ She _left because said _I _didn't love her!_ End of story!_" he bellowed. She shrank back, apologizing profusely. "Jeez, Rachel, God, I'm _sorry. _I didn't mean-"

"No, _I'm _sorry, Noah. That wasn't my business. I won't bring it up again." They are silent for a few moments before he chuckles.

"You're too nice, Berry. I'm surprised you made it in a business this cutthroat."

"I assure you, Noah, that I can be quite _ruthless_ if needed. Need I remind you of Sunshine Corazon?"

"I still can't believe you sent her to a crack house!"

"It wasn't an _active_ one!" They burst into laughter, trying not to spill anything.

"Rachel, thanks."

"For what?"

"For, well, _everything_."

"I don't mind, Noah. It's what friends are for."

_Friends,_ he thought. He didn't know _why_ the word stung so much.


	8. Chapter 8

Puck strummed at his guitar again, getting agitated. It just didn't feel _right_.

"_Fucking_ Andy and Em, jeez," he groaned. They were pushing for _one_ more song, and he couldn't draw it out from his soul. Personally, he was fine with what he had, but apparently it wasn't enough. And it was bad enough that he hadn't seen Rachel in over three weeks.

She was in the last leg of her show, and her agent wouldn't let her off, demanding perfection. He snorted. Rachel was _always_ perfect. Then he heard a knock on his door. He nearly threw his guitar to the side, jumping up to answer it.

"Oh, thank _God!_" he exclaimed at the sight of the starlet. "I'm out of my _fucking_ mind!"

"I'm glad to see you too, Noah," she replied.

"What's that thing in your bag?" he pointed out, seeing the noticeable bump of her bag. She was smiling widely, to the point of bursting. "You okay there, Berry?"

"I'm going to be in a movie!" she squealed, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly. He laughed, returning it just as tightly.

"Congratulations, Berry!"

"I brought _this_ to celebrate!" she replied excitedly, pulling the object from his bag. It was a greenish bottle of what looked like wine. He was about to protest, but took a closer look.

"Welch's Sparkling Cider? Where the hell did you get this?" he asked.

"Who cares? I got a _movie_ part!" He let her in, following her to the kitchen. He pulled out two wineglasses, pouring one for each of them.

* * *

><p>Hours later, they were halfway through the bottle to his surprise. "Okay, Berry, I'll admit, I kind of like this shit."<p>

"Noah, just admit it. This 'pansy' wine is better than actual wine." He ignored her, taking a long sip of his. Puckermans do _not, _repeat, do _not_ admit defeat.

"Wait!" He sprinted out of the kitchen, carrying his iPod and speakers with him. He set it up, scrolling for a specific song. He pressed play, and a slow melody began to play. She looked at him questionably. "Noah-"

"Don't tell _anybody_ about that play list, Berry. Can't let it get around to people that I'm a r_omantic_ bad ass. Now, dance with me!" Before she could turn him down politely, he had pulled her into his arms, swaying her in a circular motion. She giggled, letting him lead her.

He sang softly in her ear. She smiled into his shoulder shyly, feeling a little magical when they turned gracefully. Noah singing in a low croon of Richard Marx was just doing something to her! He was better at this than she thought.

A minute or two later, they let go of each other reluctantly, his iPod playing another song in the background. He refilled their glasses, handing one to her.

"Cheers!" he exclaimed, leaning against the counter.

"What are we drinking to now? Your cat's birthday?" she snorted, in a very unladylike manner

"Now, Berry, you know that was_ last_ week," he tsked. "But no. Cheers to something else."

"What is it then?"

"I realized something, Rachel. Just now." He moved closer to her, moving into her space.

"And what was that, Noah?"

"Quinn wasn't right. I didn't love her enough. How could I when I was still in love with you this whole time?"

He pressed her against the counter, kissing her. She reciprocated before breaking away in panic.

"I can't." His forehead rested against hers, lips and eyelashes brushing her skin.

"_Rachel, please_."

"Noah, I_ can't._ I leave for L.A tomorrow to start shooting."

"Please don't leave me again, Rachel. You promised me!"

"I can't. I can't. I_ can't! _I_ can't!_ I_ can't!_" She pushed him away, running out the door with her bag. Tears streamed down her face, away from the view of Puck.


	9. Chapter 9

Kurt pushed his coiffed hair back gently, unlocking the door. Not a second later, he had turned his nose up, ready to walk out.

"This. Is. _Horrid_." He took several deep breaths, forcing himself to enter the ugly living room. He sat on the edge of the couch, crossing his legs. He laced his fingers together and sat, before unlacing them and re-lacing them. He drummed them randomly on his lap, humming a Broadway song to himself. Not too long after, he heard the rush of water from a shower being turned on, switching tunes. This time, it was a Journey song.

Puck entered the room, tugging a clean shirt over his head with several yawns. When he looked up, his hazel eyes nearly bulged out at the sight of the familiar male diva in his living room, calmly tapping his fingers to the beat of a song he vaguely recognized.

"_What the - _Hummel! What the hell are you _doing _in my apartment? Hell, how did you _get_ in? God, did Berry send you? Then get out. I don't even want to hear it, just _get out_."

"Hush, Puckerman. I am here on my own behalf, for Rachel's sake. You really should consider redecorating, by the way. This place is_ so_ maudlin and drab. If you want, I can recommend a good consultant. She'll let some _effing_ color and life into this place."

"_How the hell_ did you get in? Breaking and entering wasn't your style, last I heard."

"You assume correctly. Kicking down a door would scuff my boots. However, you really should reconsider where you hide a spare key. The fake potted plant in the hallway is_ way_ too obvious."

"Give me my key, Hummel!" He handed over the key politely, waiting. "You still haven't told me why you're here."

"Actually, I did tell you, on indirect behalf of Rachel. What surprises _me_ though, is that you're still here."

"_And why _is that?" Puck asked coldly.

"Gathering from the little spat you two had last night, I would've expected you to go_ after_ her and make up in a _creative_ manner."

"Fun as that sounds, Hummel, looks like you were wrong. How do you know about that anyway?"

"Surprising what she can fit in a minimum of seven voice mails. Perhaps I should've brought backup."

"Why would you need it in the first place, Hummel?"

"All you_ Jews _are stubborn_. _I find my reasoning_ quite _obvious to the rest of the world."

"Try_ sharing_ before I kick you out of my _Jew _apartment on your Gucci ass."

"Prada, actually," he sniffed. "Really, you are oblivious. You're very much in love with her, and she with you."

"Caught all that from a voice mail, huh?" he asked, playing dumb.

"I'm_ gay,_ Puckerman. I have a knack for these things. Especially since she's one of my favorite divas. I_ thrive_ on romantic crumbs like this."

"So, what am I supposed to do about it?"

"For_ God's_ sakes, Puckerman! Man the_ hell_ up and go after the woman you love before it's _too late_! Are you really that much of an _effing_ idiot? Do you _want_ to get kicked in the ass by a six-hundred dollar boot?"

He calmed down and took a breath, adjusting his still perfect, motionless hair. "So what are you waiting for?"

"Jeez, I am an idiot," he muttering, grabbing his wallet and putting on shoes. He ran out the door, grabbing his guitar case on the way out.

* * *

><p>At the airport, Rachel was waiting for her flight. She looked sleepless, but had managed to look like she hadn't been crying all night and the better part of a morning. She looked around, seeing couples say goodbye or reuniting with each other lovingly. She couldn't help but sigh.<p>

"_Rachel, wait!_"

"OMG, that's_ the _Rachel Berry!" a fan waiting for a flight screamed, snapping a picture.

She turns around to see a man walking towards her, carrying an acoustic guitar.

Tears began to well up in her eyes as he sung a song that she had never heard before, assuming it had come from his album.

"You found your voice," she said softly.

He slung his guitar behind his back, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Please don't leave, Berry. I need you more than anything. I'm sorry I couldn't get the whole song in, but security is-" Rachel jumped on him, kissing him. He caught her, kissing her back. "Thank God for that! I almost thought you didn't feel the same," he murmured, setting her on her feet.

"I_ am_ unintelligent sometimes, Noah, I can admit that. Matters of the heart are practically new to me. Finn or Jesse weren't very good examples. But I_ am _sure about this_._ I'm sure about_ you."_

"I love you, Rachel."

"I love you, Noah. So, what convinced you?"

"Hummel broke into my apartment and more or less threatened me with bodily harm," he laughed.

"I told you that fake plants are useless."

"You never_ said _anything!" he groaned, being the only one who didn't know, much to her amusement. "It always works in the movies!"

"We'll change it when we get home. Now what was this about security?"

He turned pinkish suddenly.

"_Oh, er, well_, security wouldn't let me in. So I had to improvise. With my guitar... They'll be fine, I swear! In a few days..."

"Noah, it's okay," she giggled. "It's kind of hot, actually," she whispered, her eyes darkening just the slightest. "Let's just go before they find you, okay?"

"Wait, your flight! Hell, I'm sorry, Berry."

"Hollywood can wait. I am_ the _Rachel Berry after all," she declared. They walked out, arm in arm, narrowly avoiding security, but laughing all the way.


End file.
